“Hey man, hurry the fuck up,” some ass-monkey yells at me. I hear a well-placed kick on the door of my Port O Potty. Upon exiting, I didn’t feel I owed the man my extended explanation that I had waited six years to see 311 live, so I didn’t mind torturing my bladder an extra hour to make sure I didn’t miss that sick encore of “Creatures.”
So I just walked away.
“That was a long fucking piss man,” he continued. He turned to his cohort and giggled in a manner that took me right back to seventh grade. So, I decided not to disappoint the misled adolescent.
“Yeah man, I was totally rubbing one out in there, Port O Potties totally get me off.”
Idiot. I shook my head and moved onward so we could catch our cab back into I.V. I’m not really a mean-spirited person. I tend to give anyone the benefit of the doubt before judging, but, at times, certain stupidity just can’t go unnoticed. Sometimes these quips just say themselves. I can’t help it – I have a low tolerance for idiocy.
But then on the cab ride back, when the SoCo shots and Bud Lights started to wear off, I started thinking. Maybe that guy should have beaten the snot out of me. Should I consider myself lucky that I don’t have a black eye? Should I feel good about myself for showcasing my superior wit in front of a bunch of people I don’t know – or necessarily care about?
Sadly, in I.V. these days, people are getting roughed up for far less than a well-placed comeback.
Let’s rewind about a week and a half ago.
I’m driving down I-5 from Sacramento on a Sunday afternoon after attending two weddings over the weekend. I’m feeling like somewhat of a cynical bastard already, maybe it was the hangover or maybe it was because I’ve been reading Choke for the last couple of weeks. In reality, I think it was just some sort of unexplainable depression on the state of the world.
Getting away from I.V. was supposed to be a breath of fresh air. It was a sabbatical from an area where two local students had been killed in as many weeks. Then I find out that three people had been hit and killed in the Sacramento area that week by drunk drivers, one of whom was a Rocklin Police officer who one of my best friends knew and respected.
So fast forward back to getting home that night. Ready to rid my mind of all of the tragedies of recent weeks, I show up at the Nexus office only to find out that a mild acquaintance of mine, and a good friend of several of my roommates who had crashed on our couch only a week earlier, was also the victim of a fatal motorcycle accident.
A little bit overwhelmed, I wonder how the big 21st birthday party that I missed out on at my house over the weekend went down.
“Dude, it was so fun. Well, until…”
“Until this brawl broke out and some poor kid got thrown through our front window.”
I still don’t even know the details of it. I’m not sure if anyone really does. But who knows, it could have been over some quip at someone else’s ill-conceived joke, or even worse, something far less. I’ve seen too many fights break out over, well, nothing. So, all of last week when the Opinion office begged for my services – another “40 ounces” installment – I just didn’t have the heart to do it.
A little recap: This space that I have is usually related to drinking, parties, bars and mundane thoughts about nothing, usually with the sole intent of taking ones mind off of the rigors of everyday life, the politics that usually overflow the Opinion page, evoke a laugh or two or even just an ample distraction during lecture.
Then, on Sunday night when I show up to work, with the full intention of writing my long-overdue tribute to Southern Comfort, I found out about another fatal car accident involving a UCSB student. I just couldn’t muster the desire to advocate alcohol after another atrocity. It would be too insulting.
Instead, for this week at least, I decided to voice my concern of the fragility of life that too many people fail to fathom. Some don’t understand what a punch to the face can do to someone. Most don’t understand how lucky they are to be here at our little coastal paradise. For this weekend, chill out, help each other out and please, be smart.
Because believe me, I’d much rather write about SoCo next week.
This week, Daily Nexus Sports Editor Sean Swaby will be stocking Isla Vista Port O Potties with boxes of Kleenex.